


Chocolate Caramels and Bourbon

by Jules1980



Category: Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: A/U, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 00:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19860892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jules1980/pseuds/Jules1980
Summary: Unfinished business comes back to haunt Terry Silver on his wedding day.





	Chocolate Caramels and Bourbon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheEmpressAR](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEmpressAR/gifts), [Rynnsama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynnsama/gifts), [IzzyMcFeegles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IzzyMcFeegles/gifts).



> I own nothing, blah, blah, blah.

Captain Mike Sullivan stood in the checkout line at his local A and P. It had been a long ass day and he just wanted to get his beer, his mediocre frozen dinner, and get back to his house.

He scanned over the selection of candy at the counter, his fingers lingering on a pack of chocolate caramels.

_ Two too drunk men in some village in Switzerland. _

_ “Food will sober us up.” Hands grabbing a bar of chocolate from the hotel lobby. _

_ “That's not food, that's chocolate.” _

_ Flashing blue eyes, that killer grin. _

_ "Chocolate and caramel. Caramel has milk. Totally food.” _

_ They step into the elevator together. _

_ “If you say so.” _

_ “Oh, ye of little faith, taste this.” _

_ Fingers sliding over his lips as he opened his mouth to taste the sweet treat. _

_ Lips replacing those fingers. _

_ Chocolate and caramel mixed with bourbon and cigars. _ __

_ Those long fingers trailing down his neck until they tangled in his dog tags. _

_ Whispered, “Damn it.” _

_ Foreheads pressed together, he holds them as if in a battle between wanting to tear them off and take what he wants and respecting what they meant. Finally, he let them go, smoothing them down and stepping back. _

_ Well, something had certainly sobered them, but it wasn't the chocolate. _

_ “Think Princess would like any of this Swiss chocolate? She practically inhaled the Japanese candy I brought her last month." _

_ "We'll find a candy shop tomorrow and send her a big box of everything," he said, the moment gone as fast as it had begun. _

He moved up in line, his eyes moving to the trash rags above the checkout only to see those same flashing blue eyes staring out at him.

“Fourth Richest American Playboy

to wed Printing Heiress"

Yeah?

Who was it this time? He grabbed the magazine and the ones beside it, throwing them on the conveyor belt and before he could think better, he added the pack of Chocolate Caramels to the belt, paid for everything and made his way home in a considerably better mood than he'd entered the market.

Later that night, he lay in his bed, thumbing through the first magazine.

"Billionaire playboy, Terrence Silver, III, at

a net worth of 3.6 billion dollars…,”

Well, that wasn't true. Terry had told him once that it was only about 3.3 to 3.4 at the most.

Only. At the most. As if the .2, or two million dollars they were off, was pocket change, like the $.75 in his pocket at the time.

"Silver will wed Abernathy Printing

Heiress, Corrina Abernathy, 23, in

a private ceremony at his Hollywood Hills

estate this spring."

Mentally converting the time zones, he grabbed the phone off his nightstand, dialing as he looked at the pictures.

As usual, they were all of the blushing bride. None of the groom in sight. Way to seem legit. Then his eyes fell on the last picture.

“Mr. Silver's goddaughter (Name

redacted) of Fort Dix, NJ will

serve as flower girl while

the Bride's son (name redacted)

will be the ring bearer."

She did look like quite the little princess in a miniature ball gown while a seamstress was taking more measurements.

Mikey's blood ran cold.

If Terry let Becca be photographed, it had to be legit.

“Hello? Silver Residence, Corrina speaking," A high twittering voice answered the phone, he had forgotten he'd dialed.

"Wrong number," he snarled, slamming the phone down.

“FUCK!!" He gathered up the magazines, carrying them to the front room and throwing them in the wood-burning heater. "Fuck him."

The candies were the next casualty, then a box of Cuban cigars Terry had sent him. The Bourbon went down the sink.

“Fuck her.”

Then finally the picture. Terry in his uniform, his hair covered, greasepaint on his face, smirking at the camera. The one carefully kept on the shelf with Cara's, KC’s, John's, and Cherry's. Just friends and family he'd served with. Except that one was special. Only he knew it, but it was.

He sighed and set it back on his shelf.

What did he expect? He knew it was wrong. He was Catholic. He shouldn't be jealous that his friend was getting married and he damned sure wasn’t supposed to be daydreaming about chocolate, caramel, and bourbon kisses from another man. He had been an altar boy for crying out loud.

_ Damn him. _

He wiped his face and went back to his bed, cold and dejected. His last thought before drifting off was to wonder if it would be wrong to send the happy couple a basket of Swiss chocolate caramels and a bottle of bourbon for the wedding?

_ Would he even remember? _

* * *

Everything was screaming at him that this was a bad idea. Six and a half hours on a plane, one way, before the delay in Chicago, just to what?

See if the asshole remembered the significance of chocolate caramels and Bourbon?

If it ever had been significant to him. He was Terrence  _ Fucking _ Silver, the third. He had women, and probably men too, throwing themselves at him. He could have his pick and apparently, he had. A multimillionaire heiress, with buck teeth and fake tits.

What would it change if he did remember?

What would it change if he didn't?

This was probably the stupidest thing he'd ever done. Forty-eight hours of leave, two weeks’ pay, and thirteen hours on a plane, and for what? He couldn’t even say an ex. Flirty banter, one kiss, and a couple of gropes when the bar was dark enough, and they were drunk enough did not equal a relationship. It equaled pathetic.  _ He _ was pathetic, but he had known from the day the embossed invitation had arrived that he was going to do this.

Well, Princess was the flower girl and John was the best man, so he'd get to see them and Cara. And the Princess would be so excited to be in the wedding. She’d make the weekend fun.

* * *

He stopped by his hotel to drop off his bag and change into his class A's. He wondered if John would be in his, or if Terry would get him into a monkey suit. To see that would almost be worth the price of the ticket alone.

He had to admit he still looked pretty great, all slicked up with his medals on his chest. Not as good as in his flight suit, but good nonetheless.

The front desk called, letting him know that his date was downstairs.

"I'll be right down." He grabbed his hat and headed down.

"Deidre, honey," he smiled, holding out his arms to hug her. "We're going to have to take you home to change."

"Why?" She turned in a circle trying to look her dress over, concerned.

"You can't be prettier than the bride on her wedding day," he replied.

"Oh, Mikey," she blushed, swatting at his arms before stepping into them and hugging him tightly. “You had me worried I had something on this dress. It's not even mine. I borrowed it from a shoot."

"Sorry, Babe, but you look great, making me wish I hadn't joined the army." He had known Deidre Daniels for years. They had dated all through high school, breaking up when he went to Basic training and she left for L.A. and a modeling career. "Things must be going well."

"Well, I work every damn day it seems, but I haven't had to take my clothes off yet unless you count swimsuits, which I don't, so yeah, I guess I'm doing okay," she laughed. "And look at you. If I'd known you were going to look this good in your uniform, I'd have stuck around Fort Campbell."

"But then where would you have gotten the dress?"

“This is true," she agreed. "Ready to go?"

"As I'll ever be." He took her arm and led her over to the concierge desk. A bored-looking man stood up straighter as he approached. “Is my package ready?"

"Yes, Captain Sullivan," he said, going to a back office.

"I had them repackage and pretty up my gift from the flight," he explained as the concierge brought out a basket with a large blue bow on it

"Chocolate and booze?" Deidre raised an eyebrow. “For a wedding? Isn't that a bit tacky and cheap?"

“Hey! It's Swiss chocolate from Switzerland, and top-shelf Bourbon," he replied, mock offended. "There is nothing cheap or tacky about it."  _ Diabolical and petty, yes. Cheap and tacky, No. _ "It's sort of an inside thing for the groom and me.”

"Same old Mikey," she laughed, as they left the lobby. "You could have stayed at my place, you know."

"You could always stay here," he grinned in reply.

"Yep. Same old Mikey," she laughed again, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

* * *

He wasn't supposed to come. He was supposed to throw the damned invitation away and go get piss drunk.

Like he had done when Mikey had brought that bottle blonde bimbo to Becca's fifth birthday party.

But there he was, standing in the foyer, introducing the woman plastered to his side to Margaret.

He downed the whiskey in his glass and slammed it down on the banister as Margaret hugged Mikey. He grabbed Corrina's hand. "Come on, there's someone we need to speak to."

"But I need to get into my gown," she protested. "The ceremony starts in 30 minutes."

"Well, it can't start without us, so I think we're okay," he shot back.

"This isn't another Army buddy, is it?" she asked.

"Yes, and if you want me to be nice to all these," he motioned to the plethora of guests gathered in the courtyard, "Then you're going to be nice to him, butter wouldn't melt in your mouth kind of nice, or I will show you just how big of an asshole I can be. And on your beautiful wedding day.”

"I thought it was  _ our _ wedding day?" She pressed.

"It ceased to be  _ my _ wedding day four hundred guests ago."

That much was true. The only thing he'd managed to keep from their original 'private' wedding plans was John as the Best Man and Becca as the flower girl.

* * *

"Well,  _ Ms. La-ti-dah _ had to have her own way and the private ceremony," Margaret said, waving her hand, "Of fifty people, the two attendants, and the kids is now five hundred guests, six attendants each. Mr. Kreese is Mr. Terry's only friend up there, I told him he should call you, but I think he was just too pissed to care by then. I mean, you should have heard the row they had when Miss Rebecca's picture ended up in that magazine. You know how protective he is of that baby. I thought the whole deal was going to fall apart then, but her majesty managed to fix it some way. I don't know…,I just…, ugh."

Mikey smiled, despite himself. Margaret was usually so calm and collected, but she was in fine form with all these people trampling over Mr. Terry's house. He was tempted to offer her the Bourbon to calm her nerves. Though the thought occurred to him that it was an odd choice of words that the ‘deal’ almost fell through, not the ‘wedding.’

"Don't tell me he has you working today?”

"Oh, no," she paused, touching the newly acquired, well, new since he'd last seen her, Captain’s bars and grinned, "Captain Mikey. I'm not working today. I'm sitting right up front, just like family. He even gave me these pearls to wear." She twirled a strand of pearls around her fingers.

"They're beautiful, Margaret," he said, kindly. "And you are family. Never doubt that."

“And so are you,” she replied. "And Mr. and Mrs. Kreese, and little miss, of course. I've got you two and the rest of those Cobras that could make it right up there with me and I don't care what  _ Ms. Lah-ti-dah _ has to say about it. I still run this house until that paper is signed."

Okay, so maybe Margaret had already had a glass of champagne or three.

Mikey couldn't help but laugh. It seemed that Ms. Corrina was going to be in for a rough transition if Margaret had her way.

Terry straightened and stood taller, holding his head higher as they walked towards the couple talking to Margaret.

The girl was a knockout, tall and tan, with a great ass and nice smile from what he could see as she laughed at whatever Margaret was saying.

She slipped a tanned, toned arm around Mikey's waist, pulling him closer and resting her head against his arm.

Terry huffed and rolled his eyes. Was there ever a day when Mikey wouldn't try to outshine everyone? Where did he even find this girl? He thought Mikey preferred blonde bimbos.

He was all button and buckled up in that uniform like he always was. _Untouchable. Unreachable._ A little toy soldier.

"Hello, Mickey," he said, the rarely used name sliding through his lips before he thought about it. "Glad you could make it."

“Oh, I wouldn't miss it," Mikey replied, turning to face the happy couple. His smile was more patronizing than sincere.

He ran his eyes over Terry. The beard was new. It made him look older, more distinguished, and he found himself wondering what it felt like. S _ top it! _

"What's with the beard? Did they stop selling razors out here? I could have brought one with me from Virginia."

Terry felt stupid to be concerned. So what if the last time they saw each other he had kissed the smaller man? Mikey obviously didn't care nor probably even remember if he was cracking jokes. They had both been drunk out of their minds. It didn’t count. It didn’t matter.

"Well, you know, we're not all little toy soldiers anymore," he smirked. "Mikey, I'd like you to meet my fiancée, Corrina. Cori, this is Mikey Sullivan. He served with me."

“Oh? Were you a Green Beret too?" Corrina asked, her tone somewhat bored.

"No, I wasn't cool enough to be in their Cobra club. I was just the chauffeur," he answered.

"Chauffeur?" She looked between the two men, confused.

Terry had to actively resist rolling his eyes and he wasn't sure at which one.

“Mikey is a helicopter pilot," he explained. "He took us in and out of a lot of missions."

"Oh." She smiled brightly, but he wasn’t sure she understood yet.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Mikey corrected. He went to shake her hand and realized he was still holding the basket. "Oh! This is for you." He was addressing Corrina, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting to Terry's as the contents of the basket registered.

Terry drew in a sharp breath.  _ Damn him. _ It was even the same blue and silver foils. He glanced at Mikey's lips and swallowed hard.  _ Damn HIM! _

“You shouldn't have," he replied graciously, regaining his composure.

He saw the triumphant look flit across Mikey's face. What the hell was he playing at?

"I'll take that," Margaret volunteered, probably to escape Cori before Cori found something that she just had to do.

"Thanks, Margaret," Mikey said, handing the basket to her. When he looked back at Terry, the mask was back in place. The perfect smile on the perfect man with the perfect life. But he had remembered, and it rattled him.

Mikey smiled again as he pulled Deidre closer to him. "Where are my manners? Sorry. This is Deidre Daniels."

"Nice to meet you," she smiled brightly.

Where had Terry heard that name before?  _ Double D? _ Mikey's high school girlfriend. He nodded, "Oh, right. Double D." Let Mikey squirm for a minute.

"You _ would _ still be using that name," Deidre laughed rolling her eyes,

"Lead with your assets, Baby," he grinned, bringing her in for a kiss.

Well, there it was. Baby. A kiss.  _ She _ had reached him.  _ She _ could touch him.

They stood there for an awkward moment, neither knowing where to go from there.

"Uncle Mikey! Uncle Mikey!"

They turned to the sound to see Becca running toward him.

"Princess! Princess!" He matched her tone, catching her and tossing her up in the air before settling her in his arms and hugging her tightly.

“Be careful, Rebecca, you’ll mess up your dress,” Corrina warned a little harshly.

“A six-year-old with a wrinkled dress? Wouldn’t that be the end of the world,” Terry rolled his eyes.

“Who are you?” Becca immediately zeroed in on the one person she didn’t know. 

“This is Miss DD. She’s my friend,” Mikey said.

Becca looked her over. “You’re pretty. Are you Uncle Mikey’s girlfriend?”

“Yes, I am,” Deidre answered, sensing her role in the situation. “You are very pretty, too.”

“Yeah,” Becca agreed, nodding enthusiastically. “Because I’m a Princess.”

“I like this kid,” she laughed. “Which one of your siblings spawned her?”   


“She’s Cara’s.”

“Yep,” Deidre nodded. “I totally see that.”

“Where’s your Mommy?” He asked.

“I don’t know. I ran away.”

“You ran away?”

“Yes, sir. She wanted me to play with  _ that _ little boy. I don’t play with little boys,” she replied. “I don’t like boys. Especially that one.” 

_ “Rebecca Anne Kreese!” _

“That’s my Daddy. I have to go.” She started kicking her feet to be put down.

“I think you should probably stay right here.”

“Look, Daddy! I found Uncle Mikey!” She smiled.

“Nice try,” John replied. “You still ran off after your Mom said not to.”

“But it’s just Uncle Terry’s house,” she protested.

“Well, today is different,” he replied. “You can’t run around today.”

“Why?” she asked, curiously. “Because there are too many people here?”

“Something like that,” he replied, taking her from Mikey. 

“Am I in trouble?”

“We’ll talk about it later,” he said.

“That means yes,” she reported to Deidre in particular. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“I said we’ll talk about it later.” He held his hand out to Mikey. “Hey, Mike, I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Well, you know how it is. Leave notice sat on the Commander’s desk for a month before he decided to answer at the last minute,” Mikey replied, shaking his hand.

“Did you find…, Mikey!” Cara exclaimed as she approached them. She hugged him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here?”

“Wasn’t sure I’d get leave,” he answered. 

“Deidre? You look great,” Cara replied, shocked to see the other girl again. 

“Thank you,” DD said, hugging her. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“Mr. Terry,” Margaret came back to the group. “I don’t mean to intrude, but…,” she pointed at her watch.

“Right,” he nodded.

“Becca,” Cara warned. “You go with Miss Abernathy and you behave, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Hey, how about a kiss for your favorite Uncle,” Mikey said, leaning down beside her.

She giggled and kissed him.

“I thought  _ I  _ was your favorite Uncle,” Terry said, watching them. 

Becca considered this for a moment. “No. Your beard is too scratchy.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
